


That word on your skin

by elareine



Series: Advent Calendar 2019 [18]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Developing Relationship, First Crush, First Dates, M/M, Pining, Tattoos, Timeskip, questionable decisions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:41:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21886135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elareine/pseuds/elareine
Summary: There were stark lines against Jason’s skin. One word, in a minimalist font. Right on the inside of his wrist where Damian knew the skin would be thinnest—the second-best place to take a pulse, check for signs of life.Zombie.“I was wondering… you wanna get that one, too?”
Relationships: Jason Todd/Damian Wayne
Series: Advent Calendar 2019 [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558834
Comments: 4
Kudos: 212





	That word on your skin

**Author's Note:**

> For advent calendar day day eighteen: zombie. 
> 
> Sorry for the delay, folks! Work was all-consuming this week. I'm hoping to catch up today.

When Jason had invited him on an outing the day after his eighteenth birthday, Damian had kind of expected a bar or something. Instead, Jason took him to a vegetarian and vegan diner. It looked a little run-down, just like the neighborhood it was in, but the food was delicious. 

Jason laughed when Damian told him so. “I know, doesn’t it look like the seediest place ever?” 

“I don’t know, you look right at home,” Damian shot back. 

It was comfortable, with no venom in it. After all, they had kind of grown up together, though they didn’t talk about their shared past in the League of Assassins often. In his early years with Bruce, Damian hadn’t understood Jason’s decision at all. Why not stay with the League if he had no wish to comply with Batman’s rules? Why not, on the other hand, temper his agenda to return to the family he so clearly was still connected to? 

It was only later, when he’d come to see the League for what it was, when he’d had his own experiences with Bruce and began to see Jason’s in a different light, that he started appreciating the Red Hood for what he was. 

They were similar, for very different reasons. 

None of which explained the terrible, stupid _crush_ he’d developed. That nervous tension in his stomach whenever Jason so much as looked at him was getting annoying as hell. 

“You’re distracted tonight,” Jason remarked. “Everything alright?” 

Damian willed himself not to blush. “I’m fine.” 

Jason studied him for a long moment, then nodded. “If you say so. Hey, so, I was gonna ask you something…” 

“Okay?” 

In lieu of an answer, Jason stripped off his jacket, and Damian tensed up for a very different reason. Those arms had been what had clued him in that he might be into men, back at the beginning of puberty, and he hadn’t really moved on since. 

Now just in a t-shirt, Jason stretched out his arm. It took Damian a second to figure out what he was supposed to be looking at. There were stark lines against Jason’s skin. One word, in a minimalist font. Right on the inside of his wrist where Damian knew the skin would be thinnest—the second-best place to take a pulse, check for signs of life. 

_Zombie_. 

“It’s in marker right now,” Jason said. “Roy got me a removable tattoo. I was gonna get it done for real tonight.” 

Damian frowned, still looking at the not-tattoo. “And you brought me here before you did, because…?”

“I was wondering if you wanna get that one, too?” 

Damian’s head snapped up. That was— “Yes.” 

Jason knew a place. Of course he did. 

“Hi, I’m Lisa,” the artist introduced herself. “What’ve you got for me?” 

Jason showed her his wrist. “This, for both of us.” 

She studied it for a second, then nodded. “That your idea of a couple tattoo?”

Damian felt his neck heat up. He hadn’t even thought of it in those terms when he’d agreed to Jason’s suggestion. All he’d known was that here was a way to acknowledge all that he lost while moving forward. 

But to Lisa, they were two guys who were getting matching tattoos. 

“Something like that,” Jason agreed readily, and _what?_

“Unconventional, but I like it,” Lisa nodded. “Alright, give me a sec so I can get it on tracing paper.” 

They waited for her in silence. Damian didn’t know what to say, and Jason didn’t seem to feel the need to. 

“Who’s going first?” 

Jason pointed at himself. Though Damian kind of wanted to get it over with, he didn’t mind. This way, he was able to watch Jason strip down to his shirt again. Seeing how the word slowly took shape under Lisa’s steady hand was fascinating. 

“How does it look?” 

Jason was looking at him, Damian realized. “It’s… nice.” Stunning. 

“Good, ‘cause you’re next,” Lisa told him. “Left or right?” 

“Left,” Damian decided. He wanted it on his sword hand, but this way, it was less likely to get damaged. 

“Okay, sit down.” 

Damian took Jason’s seat on the bench. 

Jason merely scooted over, offering his hand to Damian. When Damian understood what he meant to do, he rolled his eyes. “I’m not afraid of the pain.” 

It was a lie, and Jason saw right through it. “Whatever. Holding hands when getting a tattoo is practically a tradition. You’re not getting out of it!” He laced his fingers through Damian’s right hand. 

Lisa chuckled. “Do whatever you need to do, as long as you stay still.” 

As soon as the needle began to pierce his skin, Damian was grateful for Jason’s hand in his. The pain was bearable—of course it was—but it was nice, having something else to concentrate on so the memories of the times he had been trained to withstand torture would not crop up without his bidding. 

It was just one of these things… Jason saw right through you, every time. Damian never felt so _seen_ as when he was with him. But he never pushed, never demanded that you change or heal at anything but your own pace. 

“Damn, you’re smiling. Must really not hurt,” Jason commented, but Damian could hear the smile in his voice without looking up. 

It didn’t take long to finish the tattoo at all. 

“That’s it,” Lisa told him as she wrapped it. “You’re all set. Let me get you a care sheet…” 

With great daring, Damian gave Jason’s hand a gentle squeeze in thanks. Something in Jason’s expression changed, and he squeezed back, looking softer than Damian had ever seen him.

The nervous tension was back in Damian’s stomach, but this time, he didn’t mind so much. 

His good mood held all the way home. Drake was sitting at the kitchen table, probably deep into either a complicated case or a YouTube binge. One never knew. They greeted each other with a nod and proceeded to ignore the other. 

As he munched on a veggie burrito, Damian considered his wrist. Enough time had passed that he could remove the bandage, so he did. The writing stood out crisply against his skin. It was a bit smaller than Jason’s, Damian realized, but that was fine; his wrist was thinner. Hopefully, the artist was as good as Jason said, and the ink would continue to look good on his own darker skin. 

On impulse, he took a picture of the tattoo and sent it to Jon. The reply came almost instantly: _Wicked!! Is that an ‘I died’ thing or some reference I’m not getting?_

Damian smiled. Just wait until he told Jon the full story of tonight—a hand dropped down on his shoulder. “What’s got into you?” 

For a moment, Damian considered lying. Bruce would likely let him get away with it; they had established that much trust and boundaries, by now. 

He decided against it. He was tired of the way Jason was still considered a sore point, something not to be mentioned in this family. Whatever this was, Damian would not hide it. So he stretched out his hand and showed Bruce.

Bruce frowned. “I thought you knew that we cannot afford any identifying marks.” 

As if Damian hadn’t considered the question. “If they get close enough to see my unprotected wrist, I have already lost.” 

“Besides,” Drake piped up, “it’s not like each of us doesn’t have a very unique set of scars. A tattoo isn’t gonna be what makes the difference.” 

That worked. Bruce flinched, as always, at the reminder that he didn’t exactly raise healthy and whole kids. “I suppose.” 

He didn’t ask about the word itself. Damian told himself he wasn’t disappointed as he watched his father leave. 

He thought they were done, but Drake cleared his throat. When Damian looked at him, he visibly hesitated before stating: “That seems like the kind of thing Jason would do.”

“Yes.” 

“Hmm.” Drake turned back to his screen, but Damian thought he was smiling. “I like it.”

“Thank you,” Damian told him sincerely. 

“And, uh, good luck with that.” 

Damian remembered the feeling of Jason’s hand in his and thought: _I’m going to need it._

“Hey, remember when I asked you to get this tattoo?” Jason asked, his thumbing gently rubbing over the script on Damian’s wrist. 

Damian straight up laughed at him. 

Jason had to grin, too. “Yeah, okay, you do. You remember how nervous I was, asking you to do it?” 

“I was eighteen,” Damian pointed out drily. “You could have thrown up in front of me, and I would have thought the world of you.” 

“Eww. I’m trying to be romantic here, babe.” 

“My apologies.” 

“I might’ve noticed, though,” Jason told him. “That you had a baby crush, I mean. Was trying to decide what to do about it.” 

Damian stared. “And you thought a good way to ask me out was to get matching tattoos?” 

Not that it hadn’t worked, but that was one of the stupidest plans Damian had ever heard. 

“Nah, I just wanted to have it, and I thought you’d appreciate the question. Didn’t expect you to go for it, to be honest.” Jason paused. “Though I gotta admit that the thought crossed my mind.” 

Damian cast a glance toward the heavens even as warmth filled his chest. His beloved was, as Timothy liked to phrase it, a dork. 

Jason’s thumb running over his wrist slowed, stopped. “I think it needs a touch-up.” 

“Does it?” Unwilling to remove his hand from Jason’s grasp, Damian craned his neck to see the tattoo. It _was_ a little grey and faded around the edges… “I guess.” 

“We should get an appointment together so I can hold your hand again.” 

“I’m not afraid of the pain,” Damian reminded him. 

“I know.” A fond grin. “Can I hold your hand anyway?” 

“Always.”


End file.
